Let It Be For Nought
by FarAnya
Summary: After returning from a mission in Ireland, Nikita and Michael come to an understanding of hearts.


_**Let It Be For Nought**_

by Anya

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Author's Note: This grew out of my story "Look to the Rainbow." I felt that it was really more of a corollary story and could - and should - be developed into its own. It is yet another fantasy of my poor fevered brain and begins at O'Hara's restaurant the evening Michael & Nikita return from their long mission in Ireland. It might be helpful - but it's not really necessary - to read "Look to the Rainbow" before reading this. If any of the dialogue between Michael and Nikita sounds unnatural, it is merely how I imagine Michael's demeanor toward Nikita might change once he actually acknowledges his love for her.

By the way, the word 'nought' is an old English poetic version of the word 'nothing.'

Warning: Chapter 2 is definitely M (NC-17). This is so far outside of my usual realm, but I have tried to maintain a sense of integrity and dignity in describing such a private and personal act of love. I'm sorry if I offend anyone.

Disclaimer: As usual, Michael and Nikita and all the rest of the LFN players are products and creations of LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and Fireworks and no copyright infringement is intended in any way. I would like to thank the writers, producers and actors for allowing me to let my imagination run wild.

Fiction Rating: M (Chapter 2 only) Category: General

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**XIV**

_If thou must love me, let it be for nought_

_Except for love's sake only. Do not say_

_I love her for her smile... her look... her way_

_Of speaking gently,... for a trick of thought_

_That falls in well with mine, and certes brought_

_A sense of pleasant ease on such a day' – _

_For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may_

_Be changed, or change for thee, – and love, so wrought,_

_May be unwrought so. Neither love me for_

_Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry, – _

_A creature might forget to weep, who bore_

_Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!_

_But love me for love's sake, that evermore_

_Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity_.

**_– Elizabeth Barrett Browning_**

_from_ **_Sonnets from the Portuguese_**

_Chapter 1_

"Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like... if I'd met you before I joined _L'Heure Sanguine_."

They sat across from each other in a secluded booth in O'Hara's. They'd finished their meal and were enjoying the rather dark, peaty atmosphere of the restaurant. Michael's eyes hungrily devoured every inch of Nikita.

She was wearing a slip-dress of the deepest burgundy; so dark it almost looked black in the dim lighting. Most of her hair was swept up in a loose chignon, but several locks had escaped to graze her face and neck. Michael wanted nothing so much at that moment but to reach over and caress those shining tresses.

For her part, Nikita too, was drinking in Michael's casual elegance. The darkness of his suit was relieved only by the stark simplicity of his white, collarless silk shirt; no tie, nothing to draw her eye away from the intensity of his silver-green gaze. His hair seemed to invite her fingers to lose themselves in the mass of soft curls revealed by its new length. In fact, tonight she was having a difficult time keeping her hands from doing just that.

Michael couldn't remember the exact moment when he realized he loved Nikita. He only knew that his feelings for her had always been strong. His face was pensive as he meditated aloud.

"Would I have been as angry at everything? Would I have participated in the bombings? Would either of us have... ended up... in Section?"

Nikita was momentarily stunned. Somehow she always seemed to be surprised by Michael – and she was never sure why. While she had often fantasized about a life with Michael outside of the Section, never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that he ever thought about what it might be like.

"Michael, I doubt you'd have done anything differently. When you joined _L'Heure Sanguine_ I wasn't even a teenager. I was just a scrawny street rat. Knowing me then would probably have had very little effect on you," she said, her voice tinged with regret.

Michael looked at her keenly. "You might have been a child in age, but I doubt you were ever a 'child'. I think I knew – on some level – the moment I first saw you. I knew we were connected in some way. I believe I would have recognized that in you... if I had met you in 1984." His gaze slid from her face to her hands, which were clasped, loosely on the table. He reached across the table and took her left hand in his.

"I want you to know – no matter what they do to us – my heart and my soul would be dead if you weren't in my life." With that, he solemnly slipped a slim, gold band on her ring finger and reverently kissed her fingers. Then, lifting his eyes to hers again, he vowed quietly, "With this, I pledge to you... my friendship... my loyalty... my love."

Nikita's mind barely associated his actions with his words – she was overwhelmed. Her eyes searched his eyes... his mouth... his face... and it was several moments before she was cognizant of the sensation of cool metal on her finger. She pulled her hand gently from his grasp and finally looked at the ring.

Its design was very familiar to her. She couldn't have been in Ireland for two days – much less two weeks – without seeing the motif at least once; the band was made of two hands holding a crowned, heart-shaped emerald... the crown was facing up; a claddagh, the traditional Irish wedding ring.

In that instant Nikita realized, where she and Michael were concerned, that life had a way of being very serendipitous. She hadn't realized before how much alike they were – nor how incredibly like-minded.

"Michael..." she started, her throat tight with emotion. "I... I..." She stopped and shook her head slightly as if to clear her thoughts. "I almost said, 'I don't know what to say,'" she said with a small smile. "But I _do_ know what to say. I know – like you do – that Madeline and Operations will do their best to come between us - to make me doubt and mistrust you. But I also know that I cannot call life – without you – living."

As she spoke, she took Michael's left hand in hers and slid a solid gold claddagh on his ring finger, crown facing up. She'd bought it for him while they were on this last mission in Ireland. Her shining blue eyes locked on his, her voice a raspy whisper, she echoed his promise, "With this, I pledge to you... my friendship... my loyalty... and my love."

And for a moment, time stood still – and they were oblivious to their surroundings. For all they knew – or cared – they could have been in the middle of the galaxy with nothing but starlight shining on them.

Walter and O'Hara watched from the corner of the bar. And although he and O'Hara couldn't hear the words exchanged, Walter realized that something monumental had passed between Michael and Nikita; the love and passion radiating from them spoke volumes. Walter's face seemed to shine in the reflected light of the love the two young people shared. He turned to O'Hara and said, his voice tight with emotion, "You know, I'm not sure, but I kinda feel like I've just given my daughter away in marriage."

"Aye, I feel a bit like that meself," O'Hara replied, wiping the corner of his eye.

Walter went on in a grim tone, "If they did what I think they just did, I hope they'll be able to keep this from becoming general knowledge." Walter's eyes lost some of their glow as he considered the ramifications of what he had just witnessed.

"Ye know, I have a feeling that these two will manage – they'll keep this to themselves. And ye'll not be saying anything either, will ye now?" O'Hara turned to his friend and raised an eyebrow.

"Me... say anything that might bring down the wrath of St. Ozimondius on my head? I sincerely hope not!" Walter said with mock indignation.

"Ah, now don't be bringing leprechauns into the discussion!" O'Hara warned as he crossed himself. "Ye never know what those fairy folk might do if they take it into their heads to 'help' the youngsters!"

Walter grinned, but his face turned thoughtful again when he look back at the couple, and amended his previous statement, "Actually, it's the combined wrath of 'St.' Michael and 'St.' Nikita I probably wouldn't live through. Nikita's anger can – and will – spontaneously combust while Michael's is slow burning and burns long. She's the lighting... he's the thunder. And both can peel your skin off - one painful layer at a time – with just a look! It's not something you want to _detonate_ without a very, _very_ good reason!"

O'Hara nodded, "Aye, but they're good people, surely now. I could tell as soon as I clapped me eyes on them."

"Not 'good,' my friend," Walter said quietly, "they're the best of the best."

"To the best of the best, then," O'Hara said, as he raised his glass in the direction of the young couple.

"The best of the best," Walter murmured, and they finished their drinks in companionable silence.

Michael smiled as he looked at his hand and said, his green eyes sparkling. "When... when did you get this?"

He thought how good it felt to wear a ring again. It had been almost unbearable wearing the silver band Elena had given him when he'd lost Simone the first time. But since the mission to bring down Vacek had begun before Simone was taken by Glass Curtain, he'd worn it without complaint. Then – after he believed Simone was dead – he'd had to go on wearing it, even though he feared it would eventually become a symbol of the mockery his marriage to Elena really was. As the Vacek mission progressed he had discovered – much to his delighted surprise – that it did not. He had learned to truly care for Elena and wearing her ring had been his way of proclaiming that.

But this... this felt right. It felt even more natural to him – as if his life had come full circle. He was finally balanced – physically, mentally, and emotionally. And he realized that the balance was created by the extraordinary woman sitting opposite him... the one who had brought him back to life so many times. Incredible as it seemed, she never failed to be there for him... no matter what he'd done to her.

Michael's thoughts were snapped back into the moment at the sound of Nikita's gentle laughter. Her eyes were twinkling as she answered, "Oh... the second day we were there... you remember I went to the open air market for groceries. While I was there I noticed a jeweler's stall. I saw the claddagh and a voice in my head said '_Michael_.' I went back three days later and bought it!" She winked and added, "Because you know, I _always_ listen to the voices in my head."

"But how did you know what size? Wait... that was the day you 'borrowed' my gloves..."

Nikita's face was full of mischief as she explained, "Well, I figured that if I tried to access that kind of information, bells and whistles would probably have gone off all over the Section!" She shifted a little and shrugged her bare shoulders playfully. "So... I had to be... a little... creative. It was a simple matter for the jeweler to measure the glove and get the correct size. He said he did that sort of thing all the time."

Michael chuckled. "You are right about the bells and whistles – at level 5, that kind of information is classified – 'need to know' basis only. You would have had to get Birkoff to hack it for you."

"That's what I thought." She looked down again at the ring sparkling on her finger. "So... when did you get mine?" she asked in a whisper.

"Six months ago, when I was there before," he said quietly. "But I didn't want to give it to you until the Vacek mission was over... and I was... free."

Nikita saw the pain in his eyes as he remembered Elena... and Adam. She reached out to comfort him. She knew it would be a long time before that wound healed completely and she silently vowed that she would do whatever was required to help him. After all, wasn't that what they had just promised each other?

He stroked her hand again, reveling in the smoothness and the strength he felt there. After a brief smile, his gaze turned serious and he said, "It would raise too many questions and invite trouble to wear them in Section."

"Yes... I know," Nikita answered, her face sobering instantly, accepting the truth of his words. "We also can't behave – or even look – any differently toward each other." She paused and then said, "Though I'm not sure I'll be able to do that as well as you." Then her lips curled up in a grin and her blue eyes danced. "You know... I could probably use a refresher course in subterfuge. Maybe a little one-on-one with a personal trainer... hmmm? What do you think?"

Michael chuckled briefly, but was quickly solemn again. "It's actually quite possible that Section already knows you bought the ring," he said. "I never checked to see if the surveillance cameras were ever reinstalled in your apartment after Eric's attempted escape. I'll do that in a little while and find out where they are if they have been replaced. Then we can find a place to keep the ring in safety."

"Good," Nikita began. Then she realized exactly what he had said and, with her heart in her mouth, she asked, looking desperately at him, "'In a little while'? You aren't going back in tonight, are you? Aren't you going to take the down time Operations gave you?" As she finished she looked down, concentrating on their clasped hands. "I had hoped we could spend some of the time together," she said so softly that he had to strain to hear her.

Michael gently pressed her fingers and said, "No... I'm not going in tonight. I can access that information by remote." He paused and then continued, "I have plans for tonight..." Once more he hesitated and then added, with an intensity in his voice and a glow in his eyes that brooked no denial, "...and so do you." Saying that, he tenderly kissed her hand once more.

Tears glittered in Nikita's eyes as she gazed at him. He had given her her heart's desire – what she had dreamed of almost every night she'd been in Section. He had given her his trust and – more significantly – his love. She sighed, gazing again at their hands. Then she glanced up at him through her lashes and said, her voice full of teasing innuendo, "So you're my social secretary now?"

He smiled, saying, "If that's what it takes..."

"Well, don't make plans for tomorrow night... I'm afraid I already have a date." She waited a moment and then explained. "Walter wanted to take me to dinner tonight, but I promised that I'd be his date tomorrow night..." she paused, lifting her eyebrows suggestively, and then continued, "...for dinner, that is!" She laughed as she watched the subtle changes in expressions cross his face. Then she said, seriously, "I have to go on as I always have with Walter... he'd notice if I changed. Madeline probably would too."

"You're right, of course," he replied quietly, as the reality of how their life together would be settled over them both. After a moment, he continued, "Speaking of Walter, he's at the bar. I believe he's been there a while."

Nikita looked quickly into the bar and spotted him. "I know he won't come over unless we ask him to. Today when I told him we might come here, he promised he'd stay out of the way and not barge in."

Michael considered for a moment and then said, "Let's see if he'll join us... I owe it to him."

When Nikita looked at him curiously, he explained, "After the Shays mission, he was... very angry with me... believing I'd let you die. For his own safety, I couldn't tell him what I had done. He cares too much about you. His actions would have alerted Operations and Madeline that you were – probably – alive. He'd have also tried to find you," he finished and then signaled for O'Hara's daughter, Deirdre, to join them.

Michael stated his request to Deirdre and she moved quickly into the bar to relay it to Walter. While watching the interchange between Walter and Deirdre, he turned to Nikita and said, his voice barely betraying his own dissatisfaction, "We should take them off now... before Walter joins us. For his own safety, we must begin the deception tonight."

Nikita glanced down once more at the emerald heart on her finger and sighed, "Of course." With that she slipped the ring from her finger and covertly dropped it into her purse. In safeguarding her own ring she almost missed Michael's surreptitious movement, but just caught him sliding his hand out of his jacket pocket.

Walter approached their table somewhat dubiously. "Deirdre said... you wanted to see me," he started. "I told her that I had promised to keep out of the way, but she insisted. What's up? Are we being called in?"

Nikita reached out, took his hand and pulled him down onto the chair beside her. "No," she said, teasingly. "We want you to have dessert and coffee with us!"

"Nikita... be nice," Michael began, the gleam in his eyes and the teasing sound of his voice belying the severity of the words themselves. "Don't bully the poor man; he's had a rough time already tonight." He laughed outright at Nikita's indignant expression.

Walter did a double take. This wasn't the Michael he was used to. This Michael was laughing and cracking jokes. He looked accusingly at Nikita, "Okay, Sugar, what'd you slip into his drink?" Then he turned to Michael and said earnestly, "Whatever it was, she didn't get it from me! I swear!" Michael's grin broadened.

"Walter!" she cried indignantly.

Walter edged his chair slightly closer to Michael's... whether to protect himself or Michael, Nikita wasn't sure. She almost choked when Michael said, "Yeah, Walter, we have to stick together or she'll try to run everything!"

"Well that's a fine how-do-you-do!" Nikita began, putting on her best 'poor pitiful me' face. "Here, I am... out numbered... defenseless... what shall I do?" and struck a pose like a Victorian tragic heroine... her head bowed, the back of her fingers resting on her forehead, her eyes closed.

Michael smothered a chuckle but Walter let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You!?! Defenseless?!?! Not on your life, Sugar! You're about as defenseless as a lioness!"

She laughed with them. Then she said sincerely, "Really, Walter, we just wanted you to join us for dessert. Please?"

Walter gazed into her face, turned to look at Michael and said, with a slightly bemused smile on his face, "When she looks at me with those sky-blues shining like they are tonight... I can't refuse her anything."

With an intense look at Nikita, Michael replied quietly, "I have the same problem myself."

Nikita saw the silent promise of things to come in his eyes and smiled warmly at Michael... answering his promise with one of her own. Then with an impish grin, she said caustically, "But I notice you usually manage." Michael and Walter both laughed heartily.

Amid their laughter, Deirdre came back to the table with coffee and took their orders for dessert.

_Chapter 2_

"Come in for a nightcap?" Nikita asked as they approached her apartment door.

After finishing dessert and coffee with Walter, Michael and Nikita had left the restaurant and walked in promise-laden silence the few blocks to her apartment. As they entered the courtyard of her building, Michael had reached for Nikita's hand and pulled her into his embrace. He had lifted her left hand to his lips and reverently kissed her fingertips. He'd been surprised – pleasantly so – to discover the claddagh once again on her finger. He hadn't seen her slide it on again after they'd left O'Hara's; he had slipped his on as soon as they were clear of the restaurant.

They entered Nikita's building and leisurely climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. When they reached her door, Michael took her keys, inserted one into the lock, and opened it. He stepped back to allow Nikita to enter first. She paused just inside and turned to look at him, promise and hope written in her eyes.

"I'd love to," he said quietly.

Nikita's heart soared as he followed her into the apartment and closed the door. She casually dropped her purse on the counter, tossed her fringed wrap over the stair rail and kicked her shoes off. "Make yourself comfortable, Michael," she said with a wink. "Would you care for coffee? Or would you prefer wine?" she asked as she moved into the kitchen.

"Whatever you have will be fine," he said, unconsciously echoing the words he had used all those months ago when he'd been desperate to keep her from trying to escape from the Section with Eric.

"Let me get the coffee going then," she replied. She puttered around the small area, setting up the coffeemaker and getting coffee mugs from the cupboard.

Michael smiled as he watched her graceful movements. He shed his jacket, draping it over the low island housing her stereo and slipped his shoes under the counter. He was browsing through the selection of compact discs stacked beside it when he heard the distinctive sound of a cork being removed from a bottle. He looked up in time to see her pouring a measure of brandy into a crystal snifter.

"Until the coffee's ready," she explained as she handed him the delicately cut glass.

"Thank you," he said softly, amazed once again at the transformation that Section had produced – fashioning this elegant creature before him from a virtually uneducated street rat.

As Nikita moved about the apartment lighting and regrouping candles, Michael programmed the stereo for several hours of romantic music. The seductive fragrance of the coffee combined with the delicate scent of the candles permeated the room. Michael was aware of a feeling of contentment... of wholeness. Like the ring on his finger, this 'felt' right. He placed his glass on the table and slowly moved to her, holding out his hand invitingly. "Dance with me," he said, his voice barely audible.

Nikita didn't hesitate this time, as she had so many times in the past. This time, she gracefully moved into Michael's embrace as the music slid into a romantic ballad. Together they slowly swayed to the sounds of the swelling strings and lush piano.

Nikita thought of all the times they had danced together. With one notable exception, it had always been 'under orders,' even though one or the other of them had always pretended otherwise. This time in his arms, she felt as if she'd come into a safe harbor after a stormy passage through rough seas... she was 'home.' She rested her head on his shoulder.

Michael gently pulled her closer letting his arms encircle her. He wondered, for the umpteenth time, why she loved him when he felt there wasn't much left of his self that he considered 'love'-able. He had manipulated her, lied to her, used her, abused her mentally, physically and emotionally; and still – wonder of wonders – she loved him. She trusted him beyond all measure. It wasn't rational. But maybe that's what love really was... something totally irrational. And from now on, he would fight for every bit of their share of that irrationality.

Nikita stirred and Michael loosened his hold on her, but she simply snuggled further into his arms. She murmured something he couldn't quite make out. He pulled back a bit to lift her chin and looked questioningly at her.

"What did you say?"

Nikita blushed slightly and glanced down once at the claddagh on her hand. Then she raised her eyes to his and softly repeated her mumbled words.

"I love you."

Michael's heart beat faster as he stroked her cheek and brow. He gazed into her eyes. In them he could read her heart and he knew she spoke the truth. "I don't understand why," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I have lied to you... manipulated you... abused you. You have every reason to hate me and yet you say you love me."

"I know," she said solemnly. "But I do."

Nikita reached up to caress his face. She vowed to herself that no matter what Madeline and Operations did, she would always remember this night. Her hand slipped into Michael's hair and gently pulled his face closer. He didn't resist.

Tonight they seemed to be communicating on another level... a level so subconscious that spoken words were superfluous. He knew what Nikita wanted. He wanted it just as much. In yet another echo from the past, he lifted her hands and began to stroke them seductively.

Ever so gently, he let his fingers slide along the outer edge of each hand, from wrist to fingertips. Then, allowing only the back of his fingers to touch her, he slipped his hands beneath hers and continued the movement back to her wrists. Then delicately circling her arms with his hands, Michael slowly moved up her arms, until he came to her shoulders. He placed a feather-light kiss on her neck and with almost negligent ease snapped in two the slender straps holding her dress up.

Nikita was scarcely breathing, but her heart was pounding. Wherever Michael's fingers touched her, fire ravaged her senses. There was a pulsing, insistent beat deep within her that she knew wouldn't be silenced until he had made love to her, over and over again.

As Michael stepped back, Nikita's dress slipped with a whisper to the floor, revealing her. Silently and confidently – without defiance, she stood there clad only in a pale colored lace bra, panties, garter belt and hose. As she stepped out of the folds of fabric at her feet, Michael caught her fragrance; he inhaled the heady mixture of her perfume of lavender and desire. To all his senses, she was the most incredibly beautiful creature he had ever experienced. He felt his passion hammering against reason.

During the Vacek mission, he had been unwilling to carry their relationship too far. There would have been too much to explain – things Nikita wasn't ready to hear. But now, that was over and there was nothing to keep them apart any longer. Tonight his passion won the battle over reason. And he rejoiced in that defeat.

Nikita lightly placed her hands on Michael's shoulders and then let them slide along his collarbone toward the buttons of his shirt. Her senses were so alive she could feel every thread as it passed beneath her fingertips. Slowly, but without any sign of embarrassment, she unbuttoned his shirt. For a moment she stared hungrily into his eyes. She knew that he could read every nuance of her mind; he knew what she wanted.

Michael allowed Nikita to gently push his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. He watched her face as she slipped her hands along each arm to release his hands from the folds of silk. He was as ready as she, but he was willing to wait.

Nikita shifted ever so slowly until she was standing behind him. As she reached around him she let an impish grin lift one corner of her lips as she put her hands to the catch of Michael's belt.

Michael let his face drift toward hers. He felt rather than saw the smile playing on her lips. It required all his strength of will not to turn and brutally take those lips with his own - to prove the depth of his desires for her. But he remained passive in the circle of her arms.

First, she released the leather from the buckle. Then with deliberate slowness, she drew the belt through each loop. She felt the beat of Michael's heart along her arms as they encircled his bare torso. She sagged against him as she felt his hands delicately caress her thighs.

She gasped as his arms reached around her and his fingers slipped behind the elastic of her garters and gently – one by one – released them. Michael turned slowly to face her. Then with deliberate slowness he knelt before her and tenderly removed first the garter belt and then her stockings.

Nikita allowed her fingers to wander through Michael's hair once more. As he stood slowly, drawing his hands across her tingling body, she draped her arms around his neck.

Michael gazed steadily into the depths of her eyes and then bent slightly to lift her into his arms. Nikita nestled comfortably into his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs into her bedroom. Gently he settled her on the coverlet and stepped back to once again drink in the glory of her. He promised himself that no matter what happened afterwards, he would always remember this night.

Then, with no hint of hurry or uncontrolled passion, he discarded his slacks and socks. He stood naked before her for a moment as she reveled in his beauty. Nikita lifted her hand to draw him down. As their bodies neared, she felt something akin to an electric current arc between them.

Almost before she was aware of his movement, Michael pressed urgently against her, his lips claiming hers as his hands deftly released the catch of her front-hook bra. Nikita arched against him, seeking to touch as much of him as possible. She longed to feel him pulsing inside her. But tonight – unlike that magical night on the boat – there was no hurry... no desperation.

As Nikita's hands caressed him, Michael felt the flame inside grow brighter... stronger. Beyond all reasoning, she was his.

And then, their lovemaking passed beyond all boundaries... beyond all reasoning... beyond all belief.

_Chapter 3_

She had given him not only her body... she had promised him her love and trust. Why - in God's name?

They were lying wrapped in each other's arms, sated with love and – amazingly enough – comfortable in their new-found trust.

Michael didn't realize he'd spoken out loud until Nikita's hands moved from his back to his face. Gently she pulled his face around and forced him to look into her eyes.

"'Why - in God's name' - what?" she asked, sapphire eyes boring into silver green.

Michael knew that this time he had to have an answer for her. This time he had to tell her the truth. "What I said at the restaurant tonight is true... that without you, my heart and soul would be dead. But it's more than that even." He paused, trying to gather the words to make her understand. "You made me whole again. Without you, my life would have no purpose. You say you love me despite all the things I have done to you. And I do believe that you love me." He took a deep breath to fight the tears threatening to choke him. "I just don't understand why." He closed his eyes and whispered, "I don't deserve your love."

Nikita's eyes filled with the tears he wouldn't shed. He hadn't said 'the words' exactly, but she knew that in his on way Michael was telling her that he loved her – that he had always loved her and would always love her. It was enough for now. Now, she had to reassure him... to bring him back from the edge of the abyss... to make him understand the truth of her love.

"Michael... yes you do. You do deserve my love. If anything, I don't deserve yours." She forestalled any denial of his by placing her fingers across his lips. "Yes, you've manipulated me... lied to me... even abused me. But that's nothing compared with what I've done to you. You've saved my life – more often than I can count. You've stood up for me... protected me from Operations and Madeline... and from myself."

She almost grinned as she watched his eyes slowly acknowledge these facts. Then she went on. "And what did I do? I threw your protection into your teeth. I never once thanked you for saving my life. I focused only on the manipulations and the lies – not the reasons motivating them.

"But I know... now... that you complete me. You make me whole. I can't imagine life without you. I realize we can never have a 'normal' life together - the kind of life we might have chosen to lead if we had met before you joined _L'Heure Sanguine_. But life without you now wouldn't be living. I tried that once... remember?"

She paused again to gently wipe the tears silently rolling down his cheek. "I thought of you every day... wondered what risks you were facing without me. I tried to tell myself that you were better off without me... that I was better off away from Section... that I was free. But I wasn't. It was just a lie – one lie in a whole series of lies that I told myself."

Nikita forced her mind's eye to see the pattern of deceit she had woven for her own benefit. She ruthlessly dragged her heart over the harsh burlap her self-righteousness had paraded as silk. She had to make Michael understand that he wasn't the only one to blame. No, there was plenty of blame to go around.

Michael watched Nikita's face as she momentarily withdrew into her mind to marshal her thoughts. He knew that she wasn't finished... that she was trying to distill the truth in her own heart and mind... just as he was.

"I tried to blame you for everything that had been wrong in my life," she continued after a long moment. "But that wasn't fair. It was about as fair as blaming my mother. I had to learn – the hard way – that I had to take responsibility for my own life and my own actions. When I understood that, I also realized just how much you really cared for me."

She inhaled deeply and savored the fragrance of him. "You stand between me and the hell we have to live in. You even try to protect me from you." She grinned again. "It didn't work, you know.

"I love you... not for what you have done for me in the past. I love you for who you are... for what you have made of me."

With that, Nikita leaned forward and tenderly kissed Michael. It wasn't a kiss of passion, although he could taste desire lingering on her lips. Rather it was a kiss full of promise. Michael reached up and stroked her cheek with his left hand, the gold of his claddagh glinting softly in the candlelight. Gently he pulled her left hand from under the pillow they shared. His fingers traced the claddagh encircling her ring finger. Once more he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her fingers.

"You have given me more than I ever dreamed of having," he began in a hoarse whisper. He gazed into her sapphire eyes and knew that he could give her no less than the truth.

"I love you... not for what you are. I love you for who you are... for what you are making of me."

_**THE END**_

written by Anya

Return to NC-17 La Femme Nikita Fan Fiction

(c)2000 La Femme Fiction

people have read this fic since February 20th, 2000


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